Ghosts
by Draconian Elflord
Summary: Shin has a few things to say to an old 'friend' of his before he dies. Shin POV. Some AU, or just my theory on things. Spoilers for basically entire series, especially for 'Real Folk Blues' and 'Jupiter Jazz'. Please R and R, but please, don't be cruel.


Disclaimer: If I really claimed to own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters and/or episodes and/or events, not only would I be an arrogant jerk, the Red Dragon Syndicate would have already come, assassinated me, and used the series to their own advantage.  
  
A few authors notes before we get started. I wrote this several months ago, but only today finally retyped it on a computer that has a working internet connection. Also, another thing. This is slightly AU. I'm aware that it's AU. I made it that way on purpose. I am of the belief that plot lines are not written in stone, and though I generally keep most of the plot as original, I feel no reason not to change some events as I feel better suited to serve my fic. So, if you must flame, please do not flame me for plot reasons.  
  
Ghosts  
  
Memories; our past. How well we try to shed them, over the years, going on our business, try to deny who we once were, create lives for ourselves, new and better futures, dreams of chasing new tomorrows that we'll never find.  
  
All just trying to deny we ever existed. Or perhaps to prove that we did.  
  
But not you. You're above all those fools' hopes, aren't you? Better than any of us, all of us; is that what you think? Hn. You haven't changed a bit. Always just had to be the one to stand out; no hiding for you, no weakness, no fear. Just stare everything straight in the eyes like it wasn't anything. The past means nothing to you but things that happened before. No blame, no responsibility, no nothing. Just a photo on your wall to look up at from time to time and wonder at, as if you weren't there, like it was never you at all. The past doesn't hold for you what it holds for us.  
  
Our past. The past we shared, all together. Remember how we used to be, back then? But of course you do. When I think about the past. . .  
  
You make me sick.  
  
Because I can remember the way things were back then. I know you can't, but I can.  
  
I think back on the times when we were like a family. It's no way for kids to grow up and we knew that. But we weren't kids. I'm not sure if we ever really were kids to begin with. None of us had a real home, all of us, for some reason or another, pushed out of doors because they didn't like our faces or the words that went with them. We had nowhere to go, no family. So we found our own family. Sure, it wasn't easy. Living like that isn't easy for anybody. It was something that we could hold onto. Something like a new tomorrow.  
  
But that's not what you thought. You were always the outsider, the one at the back of the class, quiet one in the bunch. Every group has one: the strong, stoic, silent type that nobody is ever sure of. But you were different, weren't you? You just couldn't let be. Never compromise, right?  
  
I think back on the times when the two of us idolized you, how you sort of pulled us in as time went by. Oh, sure, Spike was your best friend, your right hand man, your partner in crime, but Lin, Lin was your buddy. And with Lin, I kind of came as a package deal. That's one of the bad things about being twins; as much as you'd want to separate them, it's really not possible. But even so, I always knew I was a tag-along. I didn't really mind. It was okay with me if he had friends and I didn't. It was just enough to have people to be with. Lin had always had a better time making friends than I. Even twins are never the same people. Lin, it always seemed, had the social talents and charisma that I was in sore lack of. In return, I was more intellectual and scholarly, more focused on the work itself and the cause we served than the people involved. Funny how the two of use seemed to even each other out. We really made a good package deal, if you think about it.  
  
I think back on those times we had and remember how great it was. You, Spike, Julia, Lin and I, Annie, Mao: it was funny, how we thought of ourselves. Criminals, thinking we were something like Robin Hoods, like samurais, like street heroes, like vigilantes risking life and limb for something we believed in. Hah! How foolish, how naïve we were, chasing dreams like those.  
  
But not you, of course. You knew what we really were. Just a bunch of misguided punks, common criminals, murderers with red hands all. We knew you were right. But somehow, we wished you weren't.  
  
We were kids, but it was alright that way. No matter how far we strayed, we always had the Syndicate to come back to, a family, a home.  
  
I think back on all those times and it makes me sick. It makes me sick of how much, how deeply we trusted you, loved you, Lin and I. And look where it got us. You Spike and that woman . . . I saw it coming a long time before any of it happened. It wa like a prophesy. I had a knack for those kinds of things, knowing things would happen before they did. And you know what? I think you knew it too. I think you could see it in her eyes that she never really loved you the way you thought she did. Not the way you treated her like you did. It was subtle, the way she started to look at him, give him a small smile, the way he would nod his head at her in that way that maybe was friendly, maybe something more. I think you saw it happening and did nothing.  
  
And so you let it ruin, let it go to hell for us all. That was the kind of person you were. You brought all of us down with you, destroyed everything that was still beautiful about us, crushed us all to a hell worthy of only the Devil himself.  
  
Maybe that's what you were the whole time: after all of this, just the Devil.  
  
Lin was the one who knew. For the first time in our short lives, he knew better than I what we had to do. On another level of himself, maybe he actually knew what kind of monster you would become. He asked me what I was going to do, asked me to come with him, really live with him. Oath between brothers, he said.  
  
He scrapped the plan with my answer. Screw it, he said. No point if we weren't going to be in it together. Said he didn't want to do it without me. Tell me if you ever change you mind, and I'll be there for you, if it's what you really want.  
  
I've had five long years to think about it now. And now I only wish to God that I had listened to him.  
  
Did you know I died that night? I left this realm of existence when that phone rang and I heard that terrible silence on the other end. In a way I can't explain, I already knew. And can you imagine what I went through, day after day, alone for the first time in my whole life, so terribly alone? Can you even begin to imagine what I've been going through day after day, for so long?  
  
Can you imagine what happened to me when I found out what happened that day?  
  
Oh, maybe you thought I believed those lies you tried to force-feed me, like I was some kind of child. He got in the way, took the bullet, you said. Loyal to the end, you said. You owe him your life . . .Hah! Did you really believe what you said? If only you knew . . .  
  
You know why I think he did it? I think, strange as it is, he wanted you to live like that. He made a decision in that moment that even I could never have guessed. To you, he saved you. But to him, he was damning you to a far worse death, a death befitting of your nature. Because you, you deserved a fate far worse than that. I think, perhaps, in that moment, he saw what was happening yet another time. I think Lin saw in his eyes a future inescapable for you, a future so befitting of you that it was almost too good to be true. He could not give it up. For that chance, for that one just, beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime chance, he found his own life, his own future, everything, negligible.  
  
That chance, my friend, is now. And now, there's nothing you can do to stop it.  
  
For months and months now, I've had time to think this over. I've had time to play my hand, hold up this act, just biding my time for this moment, this day. I've played along with your game for five years now, just another one of your little underlings, your faithful servant, as if nothing had ever happened, like some kind of selective amnesia. It still blows my mind sometimes, you so oblivious to my mask. I was not so clever that no one could see. Daresay anyone could have, if they'd chosen to see it.  
  
But not you. Not you. You always were like that, weren't you? So damned arrogant that you blinded yourself to what was right in front of your face to see. You never could look outside yourself, never could think about what others' lives meant. None of it meant anything to you.  
  
But now, my day is come at last.  
  
I think you knew that I saved him from the start. I think you could see it in my eyes that I never meant to kill him at all; that in fact, I had thwarted those intentions with all my might and skill. That's the trouble with people like me, you know. We have the intellectual ability that eludes most, but with that ability, we fail as blind followers. I think you saw it in me that I could never be the way you are. But, as always, your blinding arrogance has fooled you. It has fooled you one last time. For it has fooled you right into you very grave.  
  
Yes, it's true, if you can believe it; I have deceived you. And I have deceived you in a way far worse than anyone else can, that anyone else is capable of betrayal. It's the very sort of way you betrayed all of us long ago. What irony is that, eh?  
  
So perhaps, while I lay here, my life slipping ever so swiftly from m grasp, you may at last understand something about my brother and I. Of all that you've not seen, that you've blinded yourself to, I want you to understand one thing about us before you meet your own demise.  
  
Today, you told me not to follow in my brother's footsteps. And you, not knowing the true meaning of your statement, thought you ensured that I might keep my life, perhaps. If only you knew what it meant to me.  
  
I am proud to walk in my brother's footsteps. I am proud that I will die, lonely and damned on this cold uncaring floor, without a mourner for my grave. Proud because, unlike you, we were real. We were all real. . . but not you. That is the one thing we have that even if you take all else, you can never take away. And though we may be ghosts now, even ghosts have power of their own rights. Haunts of our own, through your mind for the rest of you eternal hell. Lin and I, Julia, Mao, Annie, all your ghosts, all blood on your hands, all blood shed because we trusted you, loved you, followed you to our deaths. But at least I could walk in my brother's footsteps. Now, you will meet **your** doom, and note even you ghost will be able to cry for you.  
  
Even ghosts of men are more than ones that did not exist, Master Vicious.  
  
"Shin!" Spike, bleeding rather liberally himself, shook the shoulder of his unconscious friend who had just been cut down. When he did not answer, he shook a little more violently. "Shin?!? Answer me!"  
  
No answers to be given. There would be none. With a strange, unbelieving, and yet accepting look in his eyes, he took a moment to remember those last few words, uttered just a moment ago.  
  
"I always waited for you to come back and take over . . ."  
  
Spike opened his eyes, glaring in rage down the hall, at the end of which sat the stairs, at the top of which stood the devil himself, the man who had caused everyone so much pain, and now had taken yet another life. This was the end. There was no going back. It was going to end here.  
  
A voice from somewhere else echoed briefly in his mind.  
  
'I've told you before. I'm the only one that can kill you, and set you free . . ."  
  
The glare tightened its grip on his heart as he bid his friend farewell to take off down the hallway once again to the end of his destiny.  
  
'Those words apply to you as well . . .'  
  
THE END 


End file.
